LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



Xaue Deo 



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BY 



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Author of " Make Thy Way Mine" and "In the 
Name of the King " 



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FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 



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PUBLISHERS 









Copyright, 1893, by 
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 



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Light's Pageantry, 

Complete in His Infinity, 

His World, 

Content in Thee, 

Might he not Trust ? . 

Transition, . 

The Wind-Songs, 

Our Little Words, . 

The Quiet Voice, 

Bring Gifts, 

No Fight No Victory, . 

The Bells of Eventide, 

My Riches, 

Our Place in Heaven, 



PAGE 

I 

4 

6 

8 

io 

13 
16 

19 
21 

25 
27 

3i 
33 
35 



iv CONTENTS. 






PAGE 


By and Bye, ..... 


37 


Keeping Pace, .... 


• 39 


Ministry, ..... 


4i 


Ministry of the Stars, 


• 43 


Christ Victorious, .... 


46 


So Far Away, .... 


. 48 


No One to be Glad with Them, 


50 


Just to be Still, .... 


. 52 


Wait! 


54 


A Year in Heaven, 


. 56 


In Memoriam, Mrs. Elizabeth C. Kinney, . 


58 


Our Jewels, ..... 


. 60 


Faith's Probation, .... 


62 


Death's Ministry, .... 


. 64 


The Harper's Christmas Eve, 


66 


My Fast, ..... 


. 69 


A Prayer, ..... 


7i 


Compensation, .... 


• 73 


Loyalty, . .... 


75 


A Petition, ..... 


. 76 



CONTENTS. 


V 




PAGE 


Sacrifice, .... 


78 


The Guiding Star of Christmas-Tide, 


. 80 


Rest, ..... 


81 


The Mountains Praise Him, 


. 82 


The Dearest of the Seven, 


8 S 


Like Him, ..... 


. 87 



LIGHT'S PAGEANTRY. 

If the fair sky were only blue, 
If we looked only through 
A changeless vista without cloud or stain 
Of gold or crimson, we would fain 

Look day by day and praise 
Beneficence. But light lays 
Us under deeper tribute when it dyes 
The rifted cloud as though to sacrifice, 
In untold glory of all crimson hues, 
With gold and opal, till they lose 
Themselves in some unspoken tone 
Of color, we may drink alone 
When light and cloud, in mystified embrace, 

Across infinitude in space, 
Fade as heaven's multitude of wings might 
fade-— 



LIGHT'S PAGEANTRY. 



A sea irradiate, fathomless. The sapphire's 
shade 
Of tender blue is such fair coloring one 
might gaze 
And never ask the haze 
Of mist athwart the far, bright air 

To lie in rifted splendor, or to wear 
Irradiate purple, toned away 

To violet-mists at hush of day. 

And yet, 

Bastion and battlement 

In rifted light, 

Ethereal forms, white, 

Radiant in all fairness cross the space of blue, 

Irradiate mists of lifted dew, 
Touched with the new day's splendor, or afar, 
Swept by noon's upper air, bar crossing bar, 
In still repose of light without a stain, 
Lie mists that seem to sing refrain 
From some far, purer world. Oh, light is fair; 



LIGHT'S PAGEANTRY. 



The pageants of the skies declare 
Munificence and Power enthroned 
Beyond this sphere. Zoned 
Often-times by clouds, wind-swept and dark, 
There are such bright, calm, changeless stars 
To mark night's way, 
Such beauty given the wings of day, 
Such lavishment of tenderness, Earth hears — 
Though drenched at heart with human tears — 
The breathing of the Infinite, if she but see 
God's blue, fair sky with all its Pageantry. 



COMPLETE IN HIS INFINITY. 

To be at rest ; 
To ask but this behest — 
Thy will be done — to know He rules, and stays 
The breath of storms, and lays 
No unweighed cross in any place, 
Be this my grace. 

To trust His love ; confide 
In him whatever may betide ; 
To know 
Life's destinies are in His hand, and so 
Beyond the touch of Chance or Fate — 
This were a sweet estate. 

To trust his will ; to know 
He leads, and so 



COMPLETE IN HIS INFINITY. 

Be blest in sweet content 
Though rocks be rent 
And light of day, 
Dies through the untried way — 
This were to be 
Complete in His infinity. 



HIS WORLD. 

To-day his world is there within the garden 
gate, 

He dreams of man's estate, 
Reaching above the wall to look beyond, and 

sees 
Another world. He counts upon his knees 

His treasures out ; 
And wraps a paper round, and ties a string 

about, 
Wondering what burning words sweet Fame 

Will write after his name 
When he shall step beyond the wall and tread 
Renown's high path. Day burneth red 

Outside the garden gate. 

He may not even wait 



HIS WORLD. 



To say good-bye to every pleasant thing 
He leaves behind, or sigh. Love tries to 
bring 

A gay, glad face to see him go, 

Waving his bundle to and fro, 
Stepping beyond his little world, half shy, 
half brave, 

Radiant with dreams, yet grave ; 

In haste, yet lingering by stealth ; 
Submissive and yet wilful in a breath ; 
So poor, so rich, so humble, yet so proud : 

To-morrow he may call aloud 
And look back eagerly, and wish ; but, past 

the gate 
He threads the maze of man's estate — 
His new, fair world — to do and dare ; 

The colors of his liege to wear. 



CONTENT IN THEE. 

If my faith, O God, in thee 
Waver, shrinking back to see 
Doubt and fear approach, shall I 
Unto reason lift my eye ? 

If I look and see thee not, 
Shudder as a child forgot, 
All bewildered shall I stand 
Reaching out for reason's hand ? 

If I cannot feel thee near, 
Wait, and hush my heart to hear, 
Shall I, sobbing out for rest 
Turn to reason's waiting breath ? 

Let me rather kneel and ask 
Strength to wait, myself to cast 



CONTENT IN THEE. 



On thy love, while tempting power 
Broods in darkness for an hour. 

So shall I forever be, 

O my God content in thee, 

Not so much as asking why 

Doubt and fear have ventured nigh : 

Not so much as thinking out 
Words that reason breathed about : 
Not cast down because I heard 
Every faithless, troubled word, 

But as sure as sure can be 

God is God. Mortality 

But in faith its peace can find, 

Though she standeth mute and blind. 



MIGHT HE NOT TRUST? 

A world hurled on through space 
Without a goal, no resting-place 
Through all the centuries ; a sphere 
Bearing its freight of souls without a fear 
Of losing, as it whirls, its place among the 
stars, 

Though seamed with scars 

And rent at heart. 

Omnipotence its orbit drew, holds it apart 

From spheres swept onward by his power — 

One little world amid the myriads — all earth's 

dower 

To rest in him ; suspended at his will 

Her destiny to fill. 



MIGHT HE NOT TRUST! u 

A soul breathed out midst space — 
Scarred Earth its resting-place^ 

Man shudders in unrest, 
With God's eternal majesty confessed 
By every star, is shook by doubt ; 
Fears looking out 
Through space, or downward to earth's heart, 
Rends truth apart 
To trample it to dust ; 
Is slow to trust 
The hand which flung out worlds, is vexed 
In unsolved problems, and perplexed 
At every step. If he, being kept 
By power omnipotent, while earth has swept 
Along its course ; if he, 
An atom of immensity, 
Suspended so in space, to-day is here, 
Lives now to shudder, weep, or fear, 
Might he not trust, 
Lean on the hand creative till the dust 



MIGHT HE NOT TRUST? 



Of time is swept away, 

And mists are lost in an eternal day ? 

His destiny to fill 

Man's soul must rest poised on his Maker's 

will. 



TRANSITION. 

Morning and evening shall not always dye 

Hills purple. Time drifteth by 
In all its tragic splendor toward its fate ; 
Race after race wait 
Listening if perchance there be 
The distant thunder through immensity 
Of Dissolution's tread. 
Ashes of millions dead, . 
Who laughed and wept, 
Spring into purple bloom as though there slept 
No heart beneath, and overhead the air is 
sweet. 

Across the riven rocks beat 
Tremors o£a world that looks for rest ; 



14 TRANSITION. 



Joy claspeth to her breast, 

All unaware, 

The startled image of Despair, 

And sweetest things 
Fade while we look. Time brings 
A myriad new-born faces with each sun — 
A myriad new-born souls a race to run 
Amidst her gorgeous pageant neath the fair 
blue sky 

Where rhythms of sweet mysteries sigh, 
And melodies of unseen things 
Stir all the strings 
Of being. So century on century passeth to 
its end, 

And torrents beat and bend 
The brow of hills and write 
Legends on jaspers in the light 
Blent of all colors, but, as a doomed star, 
Time's mystic sphere shall feel the jar 
Of Dissolution's hand and fade 



TRANSITION. 15 



By His command who made, 
Once in the past, a new, fair world, and cast 
it off in space, 

And life in some fair dwelling-place, 

Shall know and read at last 
The wondrous utterances of all the past. 



THE WIND-SONGS. 

The wind hath its songs. 

To the King 
The words it will sing 
Are of pomp and pageant and power; 
Eclate of an hour ; 

Chicanery's deal; 
Perchance the iron heel 
Of some turbulent throngs. 

To the seer, 
With the breath of its fear 
It foretells : 
It freezes the blood as the bells 
That toll for the dead in the night 
When faces are ghostly and white ; 
It cries as some soul of the lost — 
The dead who have died uncrossed. 



THE WIND-SONGS. 17 

To the sad it weeps as it sings ; 
All minor the sweep of its strings ; 
Its words are of dreams that are past ; 
Of transport too fervent to last ; 
Of whispers the world never knew 
Of lips — were they tender and true ? 

To the glad there is joy in the song ; 
To the winds belong 
The wings of all beauty and light; 
The laughter of morning and night ; 
The rapture of birds on the wing ; 
The trumpet of blossoms of spring ; 
The song of the day at its birth ; 
The song of the dew-veiled earth ; 
The chords of the anthem of seas, 
And more, ah, far more than all these. 

But unto the heart that would pray, 
The wind-voices go not astray, 
But, catching the anthems of time, 



i8 THE WIND-SONGS. 

Mortality's rhythmical chime, 
They chant through the blue space of skies, 
Through forest-grown temples that rise 
Majestically up toward the sun, 
Hosannah to God, three in one. 



OUR LITTLE WORDS. 

We who would give our bread to feed 

Some sad and hungry one, 
And would do many a kindly deed 

From rise to set of sun, 
May well be careful of the words 

Our Christ-pledged lips repeat — 
Such little words may wound a heart ; 

May much of good defeat. 
Such little words it takes to cloud 

Some face we do not see, 
Some name we would not dare deface 

While yet on bended knee : 
Some act we have not weighed enough 

The half to understand. 
We would regret to know our words 



OUR LITTLE WORDS. 



Had stayed some Christian hand ; 
Had killed some little opening seed 

Sown simply for the Christ, 
Had made some saddened face more sad, 

Had in its growth sufficed 
To scourge some life — the words we spoke 

In such a quiet way ? 
Such little words in quiet nooks 

Can never, never stay. 
If we are Christ's and wish to hold 

His cross of light on high ; 
If we are kind and wish to wear 

Christ's robe some by and bye, 
We will in secret pray the Christ 

Our thoughtless lips to keep, 
That we may quench no light, and see 

The seed we joy to reap. 



THE QUIET VOICE. 

Only the silent heart 
Can hear Him speak : apart, 
The world's far voices barred without, 
Listening, it reacheth out 

And hears. He speaks so low 
If we would ever know 
The words He says, 
Or ever lift, in coming days, 
The allelujah of a soul redeemed, we will be 
still, 
Hear him and know His will. 
By steps He leads along the labyrinth of time; 

Who will may climb 
The rugged height and wind, 



THE QUIET VOICE, 



Unharmed, from maze to maze, to find 

The chosen way 
If he but stops to listen and to pray. 
Imperious Self demands 
Each moment for its own ; commands, 
And, sovereign in its rule, receives 
All homage. Self conceives, 
With every waking hour new aspirations and 
must speak : 
Insatiate Self would seek 
To hold the regal place in mind and heart, 

Nor stand apart 
That nobler visitant may find a place. 
Pomp, pride of life, the feverish race 

For name and power, 
The small, vain contests of the hour — 
The modes of ease and gain — 
Within the heart's deep chamber wake the 
vain 
Sad cries the conquered give, 



THE QUIET VOICE. 23 

Or feverish echoes, born to live 
And echo on in souls triumphant — as the world 

would say. 
Self marshals well her cohorts through each 
day 

And still would sate 
Herself in honor, speaking loud and late, 
Drowning low voices which might speak 
through all life's span, 
Did not the soul redeemed, in mastery given 
to man 
At will, command the tyrant Self to silent place. 
God giveth grace 
But to the silent heart that hears Him speak : 
However weak 
It be, 
If it but listen in humility, 
It needs must hear, 
Trust, and be lifted from the plane of fear 
To higher levels. Reaching to find 



24 THE QUIET VOICE. 

His will in all things, often blind, 

Uncertain, yet at peace, 

The listening heart will cease 

From vain regret, 

Put off the dust and fret 

Of darkened days, and know 

The sweet, true voice that speaketh out so low. 



BRING GIFTS. 

The year is dead. 

The winged host hath fled 
Which bore him on 
From dawn to dawn, 
The winged hours have fled. 
The year hath passed. 

His reign which could not last 
Is spent ; we bring 
Unto the King 
Belated gifts to cast. 

Dead lies the year. 

Before his frozen bier 
We bending plead. 

We intercede 
In vain, he cannot hear. 
The past is dead. 



26 BRING GIFTS. 

His shroud is crimson, red 
With blood of souls : 
A requiem rolls, 
A requiem for the dead. 

A new King reigns. 
Forget the crimson stains ; 

An offering bring 

Unto the King 
Before his glory wanes. 

Bring gentle deeds. 

Bring pure, fair thoughts, the seeds 
Of all the true 
And noble, due 
The shrine where Virtue pleads. 
Bring deeds so pure : 

Resolves so strong,- so sure, 
That when the year 
Is dead and sear 
Thy offering may endure. 



NO FIGHT NO VICTORY. 

Who fights no battle wins no victory ; 
Who stoops before the mystery 

Of Custom, bending down 
To fit the doorways of renown 
Loses in stature. There are small doors 
Where little souls squeeze through by scores, 
Applauded too and followed up with zeal 
By those who drop some dream of virtue in 
the deal 

For place to follow through — 

Paying so much to custom, it is true, 

Sometimes with conscious sighs. 

To look in Virtue's eyes 

And catch her rendering of phrase and form 



28 NO FIGHT NO VICTORY. 

Requires to stand on tip-toes looking, many 
times through storms. 

To look in Virtue's face 

Requires a higher standing-place 

Sometimes, than circumstance allows 

With all convenience, and knit-brows 

Unbend at lower levels with more ease and 

find 

A thousand tangles to unwind 
With but a touch. Prevailing mode 
Subscribes to such an easy code 

And follows right along 

With such an easy-going throng 

It needs but find 

Point for its wit, steeds mute and kind 

And all is well. To wrestle, aye, to fight 

With custom, corruption's blight 
In man, or self is life's prerogative. 
Imperative 
The marching-orders served the human soul : 



NO FIGHT NO VICTORY. 29 

The drum-roll 
Of time's marching ways is heard along the 
lines ; 

Beyond shines 
The imperial ensign — that stained cross ! 
He suffers loss 
Who fails to step to time, or shirks the clash 
of arms, 

Nor hears alarums 
Rung through the maze of day. 
Who wins must fight and slay 
Minions of time, be they of high degree 
Or little sins, instinctively 
Held close and kept 
Hidden within the heart and wept 
Above — self-love, the pride of life 
The struggle and the strife 
For place and power ; 
The subtile birth of triumph's hour ; 
Pride in the spirit's conquest over sin, 



30 NO FIGHT NO VICTORY. 

That ghastly shape that creepeth in 
When all is peace. Who fights no fight 
With self, nor conquers for the right, 
Himself is vanquished though he seems to be 
Free on the highway of mortality. 



THE BELLS OF EVENTIDE. 

The far-off bells, the vesper bells, 
Their Christ-songs sing to-night, 
As though to tell 
Christ loveth well — 
The Christ, our light. 

Across from purple hills afar 
The wavering Christ-bells toll 
Of life laid down, 
Of cross and crown, 
Of ransom's dole. 

The heart of Nature standeth still ; 
No bird-wing speedeth on ; 
Now far, now nigh, 
There drifteth by 
The Christ-bell's song. 



32 THE BELLS OF EVENTIDE. 

Across the hush of eventide 
The Christ-songs come and go, 
As though to cry, 
Christ passeth by, 
He stoopeth low. 

As chant the bells of eventide, 
Our Christ, we lift to Thee 
Our thoughts of praise — 
Forgive past days ; 
Our ransom be. 



MY RICHES. 

A little mound beneath the snow, 

A portrait on the wall ; 
A memory of hopes that were — 

These are not all. 
The music of sweet laughter hushed ; 

The music of a song : 
A dream of life which now is dead, 

To me belong. 
The touch of little clinging hands ; 

The touch of lips I knew, 
Whatever came, whatever went, 

Were mine, and true ; 
The blue of blue, fair, wondering eyes ; 

The gold of twined gold hair 
Are mine, though all the Past is past — 

I riches bear. 



34 MY RICHES. 



My cross and I ? we will not stay 

Transfixed upon the way ; 
We go, assured love's joy is worth 

The price we pay. 
The Unseen somewhere, somewhere 
holds 

The music and the light, 
The waiting hands our own shall hold 

Beyond time's night. 



OUR PLACE IN HEAVEN. 

If I to-day were free ; 
If you with me 
Should suddenly be blind 
And, leaving time behind 
And mortal vesture, should perceive, 
Upon returning sight 
Celestial forms, and know earth's evening- 
time and night 

Were lost in one eternal day ; 

If we could choose our way 

Amidst celestial beings, and commune at will 

Just where we would, to fill 

Our spirits with content, 

Would we not, bent 



36 OUR PLACE IN HE A VEN. 

On equal errand, midst heaven's company of 

angels, seek 
Spirits akin to ours, where we could speak 

Familiar language, not more base or high ? 
If we, by growth, in some long by and bye, 
Might reach the heights of nobler spirits, and 
be blessed 
In such communion, such behest 
Doubtless must be 
Given along probation lines of God's eternity, 
We are just what we are, no more, no less. 
In chrysalis of flesh 
The inner life develops year by year 
By growth self-chosen. Pure and clear 
The spirit in its veil, or stained, or dark ; 
We cast aside the veil, but, mark, 
We are ourselves, though purified 
Forgiven through the Crucified, 

We could but be 
Ourselves amidst heaven's minstrelsy. 



BY AND BYE. 

The sky is gray, a leaden hue, 
Without a single thought of blue ; 
The trees, but one short month ago 
A-flood in gorgeous coloring, show 
But cold, bare shaft with here and there 
A patch of brown across the air. 

The scurrying winds in eddies whirl 
The quivering leaves in many a swirl, 
And bend the swathes of brown-white grass 
To homage, as they rudely pass 
And send a score of birds adrift. 
The brook is cold and does not lift 
Its sweet, low song, but, by and bye, 
The mist of tears will leave the sky ; 
The mystery of love will stay 



38 BY AND BYE. 



The bitter breath of yesterday — 
Will shrive the frozen heart. Again 
The brook shall sing its sweet refrain 
Among the sedges bright with dew, 
And sweet wild blooms shall flood anew 
The wood-heart breaking from its dream 
To catch the morning's misty gleam 
To know the time of sleep is past, 
That anguish may not always last, 
That blossom-fragrance drifts anew 
Through maze of light and shades of hew, 
That skies, to-day a-mist in tears, 
May yet be blue in coming years. 



KEEPING PACE. 

If the child I tried to keep, 
He who early fell asleep — 

Leaving me with empty hands- 
Should return to speak with me, 
He who all my heart could see, 
Would he sad or joyous be — 

Sweet spirit from far lands ? 

Would he care — this child of mine, 
Purified by life divine — 

Close to press as when of old 
He could never read, as now, 
Spirit-sin and spirit-vow — 
Would he care to meet me now — 

Would his love grow cold ? 

Soul to soul at last unveiled — 
Have I conquered, have I failed ; 



40 KEEPING PACE. 

How have he and I kept pace? 
Would he nestle to my side — 
Soul of love intensified, 
He, my spirit glorified, 

Might I dare to hope such grace ? 

This my prayer, as years go by, 
Holy Spirit purify, 

Teach me, that I may not be 
So beneath that child who slept 
Once upon my breast, or wept — 
Child the angels since have kept — 

That his love be less for me. 



MINISTRY. 

Who chooses from his world some soul to pray 
for keeps 
An open way for wings of angels, reaps 
If but in stepping heavenward himself, and 
lays 
A golden cord across from soul to soul. 
Who stays 
His thought on one frail, human craft, and 
pleads, 

Aye, without faltering, intercedes 
High Heaven to bring it into port with sails 
all set, 

Will not so far forget 
The worth of an immortal drifting on life's 
sea 
That he will lose a sense of its infirmity, 



42 MINISTRY. 



But lend a hand to steer it where it would, 
Toward some safe harborage. Barks have 
withstood 
Wild seas through some prevailing hand ; 
Mortality, beaten on time's strand, 
Cries, oftentimes above the roar of seas, but 
feels no grasp, 
Only the breakers' mocking clasp, 
Knowing no pity for the moan 
Heard by the sea's cold heart alone. 
Who chooses, from his world, one soul and 
prays, 
Unfalteringly, though march of days 
Brings in no sign of benediction, yet may see, 
When least he dream, evangel of immortality, 
Written in light of cross and crown, 
Of him for whom he boweth down. 



MINISTRY OF THE STARS. 

If quite alone 
Across ethereal space, unmeasured, shone 
One star, 
In mystery of splendor, from its far, fair throne; 
If zone on zone 
Of light 
From distant worlds, to-night, 
Should fade, as sparks which glow and die 
And only one fair star should glorify 
Our evening sky, 
It were enough to startle man to gaze, 
Past all terrestrial haze, 
On to Omnipotence, and see 
The Infinite in majesty 



44 MINISTRY OF THE STARS. 

Of distance and of light 
Across the fathomless abyss of night, 
And bid him kneel in adoration none would 
stay 

Through life's brief day. 

But, when unnumbered worlds lie strown 

Like burning dust across night's zone, 

And light a century old 

But reaches man to-night from its far suns ; 

when told 

By burning spheres — 
Burning through countless years — 
Far wandering fires, through space 
Following their orbit-race, 
That God is God, that light 
Es but a consequence of His creative thought, 
and night 
The witness of His majesty, unknown 
Save through the suns which stud night's zone, 
It were enough man's dreamy sleep to break, 



MINISTRY OF THE STARS. 45 

But more — time's harmonies, through all her 

sphere, to wake, 

That anthems of creative majesty might be 

Borne on from earth through all immensity, 

That midst the legions God hath bid rejoice 

There be no silent voice. 



CHRIST VICTORIOUS. 

Praise him ! — Christ victorious, 
Risen and glorious, 

Christ the King ; 
Cast your gifts before him ; 
Let all the world adore him — 

Their tribute bring ! 

Praise him ! — Christ the living, 
Who died in giving 

Life to thee — 
Died, and yet hath risen 
Victorious from death's prison, 

Our King to be. 

Praise him ! — Christ the royal, 
Loving and loyal, 
Who yet lives, 



CHRIST VICTORIOUS. 47 

Pitying in his kindness 
The anguish of man's blindness ; 
In love forgives. 

Praise him ! — Christ who keepeth, 
Above a race which weepeth, 

Watch always, 
For He died for them — 
Oh, crown him with the diadem 

Of endless praise. 



SO FAR AWAY. 

So far away, my Christ, so far, 
Yet I would fain go back : for me a scar 
Is on each hand held out — to-day 
I turn upon the way. 

So far away, my Christ, so far ; 
I would not lose my way amidst the jar 
Of time's strange voices, but would be 
Closer, my Christ, to thee. 

So far away, my Christ, yet near — 
When I look back, and stand, the voice I 
hear 
Is low and sweet, and it is thine — 
The name it speaks is mine. 

So far away, my Christ, and yet 
I turn and will go back. No sun shall set 



SO FAR AWAY. 49 

Again and find me lost to thee — 
I would thy loved face see. 

So far away my Christ, so far — 
I could not go without my leading-star 
Through all my journey here. Be mine, 
My Christ, for I am thine. 



NO ONE TO BE GLAD WITH THEM. 

No one to be glad with them 

Though the year 

Bring sweet rain and ripened grain, 

Some sweet cadence of refrain 

They may hear. 

No one to be sad with them, 

Though they go 
Quite in sight, by day and night, 
Bowed by burdens never light, 

Bending low. 

No one to be really theirs, 
Always true, 
Always near and glad to hear 



NO ONE TO BE GLAD WITH THEM. 51 

All they hope and all they fear, 
All they do. 

No one to be glad, or-sad, 
For their sake — 
Look and see who they be, 
Near to you and near to me, 
Record make. 

Maybe we might learn to spare 
From each sun, 
Time to hear of hope or fear, 
Time to bend down very near 
Just to one. 



JUST TO BE STILL. 

Just to be still, though tempest break ; 
To know He never would forsake 
The heart He made to be His own ; 
To know He is not King alone, 
But father, infinite in care 
Of every waif that breathes the air — 
If this be mine how light the weight 
I bear through changing time's estate. 

Just to be joyous in to-day ; 
To know time's floods which sweep away 
The gold, and precious things of life, 
With desolation's breathings rife, 
Can never touch the arms I hold, 
Around my gems more dear than gold, 



JUST TO BE STILL. 53 

Unless He wills — if this I know 
Fearless my footsteps come and go. 
Just to be still and murmur not ; 
To know He never yet forgot 
The child He led ; to-morrow's care 
To lay in Him, my guide, to bear ; 
To see the sunlight of to-day 
Nor sigh that it may fade away — 
If this my part my days shall be 
Foretastes of Immortality. 



WAIT! 

Oh, land of fading dreams, 
Of passing pageant, vanishing, fair beams 
That will not stay ; 
Oh, land of night and day, 
Of life and death, 
Of rapture and of anguish at a breath, 
Of flame, and frost, and rust, 
Of flowers that turn to dust, 

Of purity and stain, 
Of sunshine and cold rain, 
Of laughter, and of cries 
To rend the far infinity of skies, 
Fulfil your part ; 
Question not, beating so close the heart 
Of God's tried love, 
Be sure there are clear reasons though above 
Thy sight, and He perceives 



WAIT. 55 

The whys and wherefores. Reason deceives, 

For can it read 
One page which God hath sealed? It is 
decreed 
That life shall cast itself upon God's breast 
and wait. 
There is no chance or fate 
For faith which is content 
In each event 
Of life to say 
With reverent trust, " I know the day 
Of my maturity shall come when I shall see 
The reason for Love's pathway traced through 
time for me." 



A YEAR IN HEAVEN. 

A year in heaven?— we standing on the shore 
Hear evermore 
The last good-bye, 
And reach to listen, as the fair days die 
Each in its turn, and we behold 
But visions of heaven's fretted gold, 
And hear 
No vesper-music of the skies save in the ear 

Of dreams which may be given 
Perchance before the sweet maturity of heaven. 

A year ? 
And we so close ; hand holding hand when 
Death stooped near, 
And he could smile across, and go, 
While we but know 



A YEAR IN HE A VEN. 57 

Time's veil was rent, and could not see 
The spirit's birth to ecstasy. 
A year in heaven ? — unstained ; 
Untouched by wound or woe ; unreined 
Amidst the free ; 
Glad in the gladness of immensity ; 
At home 
With angels at the Throne 
Of Deity, or through the realms of light, 
Yet ours, the one we would have kept that far 
off night 

A year ago, when he and I 
Parted until the by and bye. 
This cross of mine, though stained 
With tears blood-red, rained 

On it through the year 
A cross of glory doth appear. 



IN MEMORIAM, MRS. ELIZABETH C. 
KINNEY. 

Victory ! the crown ! 
Earth's cross laid down : 
Transition into light : 
A step, beyond the border-land of night, 
Into the fair unseen : a breath 
Of exultation, given when Death 
But touched her and she knew 
Life's first ecstatic thrill : a new, 

Sweet joy: a spirit free 
Before the opening vistas of infinity — 
Weep not above the ashes of the past, 
In triumph she hath cast 
The veil aside, 
In ravishment of joy is satisfied. 



IN MEMORIAM. 59 

Lay lilies on her breast, without a stain 
Of tears. Refrain 
Of woe along the vanished years 
Time's harmonies disturbed ; Fear's 
Forms of woe moan ever mid the chime 
Of earth's sweet voices ; fair, sad Time 
Hath but joy's promises that look away 
Toward boundaries of the unseen day. 
Weep not, but keep the vision of a spirit chaste 
In all poetic loveliness, its uneffaced, 

Fair presence keeps 
Beside our pathway till we fall asleep, 
As some ethereal flower whose tender face 
Might mind us of its dwelling-place. 



OUR JEWELS. 

Who hath not some low grave 
Whence come sweet voices, as a stave 
Of music known and lost ; who waiteth not 
To see above the snow or grass-bound spot, 
However far away, 
Some face and form that memory biddeth 

stay; 
Who hath not some low rood of sacred earth 
to keep : 

No tears to weep 
Upon the empty air, hath not yet come 
Quite near enough toward the setting sun 

To know the ecstasy of glancing in, 
Where sweet, lost faces, past the veil of sin, 
Wait to bring heaven near if we but stay 
To look across by night or day. 



OUR JEWELS. 61 



Who owns a treasure on the unseen shore 
Is rich owning no more 
For time is brief. Eternity comes near 
And breathes across that we may hear 

If we have but a grave, 
Low down where simple grasses wave ; 
Some angel face, celestial, bright — 
A living dream of light. 



FAITH'S PROBATION. 

What if the winds beat ? 
The sleety winding-sheet 
Of a dead day be rained upon by tears ? 
If, held against the dead, cold years, 
The heart, empassioned presses out its life 
and cries 
To the spent embers of far Time to rise 
And glow again ? by faith we turn and see 
The altar-fires throughout immensity ; 
The symbols of a love transcending Time's ; 
The intervals of infinity beyond the chimes 
Of earth's sad voices, and we know 
There is a reason for the woe 
Of God's creation, beneficent and wise, 
Though Life gropes blindly on from sacri- 
fice, to sacrifice, 



DBA TH'S MINIS TR Y. 63 

Past ashes of fair things, which were, yet are 
not, nor may be. 
Time solves no problem of mortality. 

By faith alone 
We see Love's radiance midst the Throne. 



DEATH'S MINISTRY. 

Is not death an angel shod with light ? 
Why fear ? Out from the bright 
Fair world, and upper Throne 
His wings have come. Alone 
No soul ventures toward Paradise its first free 
flight 
But with the waiting angel. Light 

Bears its subtile radiance for such eyes 
First opened by Death's kiss to sacrifice 
Of praise — light of tone 
And coloring the spirit-eye alone 
Discovers — mortality too finite, incomplete, 
The Infinite to meet 
In his sublimest thought of beauty's form. 
Why fear ? 



DEA TWS MINISTR K 65 

Now the chained soul is here. 
A moment hence, 
The recompense 
Of time's probation bides one parting breath — 
The ministrying touch of Death — 
And life's enshadowed day 
Breaks to new morning of ecstatic day. 

Why fear 
Who wakens at Death's kiss may hear 
Far sweeter harmonies, perchance, than time 
Knows in all minstrelsies, sublime 

Beyond mortality's gross ear — 
Music imprisoned souls reach out to hear 

But catch not till, supreme, 
Death stirs mortality's last dream. 



THE HARPER'S CHRISTMAS EVE. 

Strange low notes of deep despair 
Drifting on the Christmas air ; 
Little fingers wan and thin 
Lingering from string to string ! 
Little features haggard, sharp, 
Fondly bent above a harp — 
Bent till black locks, twining, touch 
The sobbing strings he loved so much. 
Scant the tunic that he wears, 
Garnished round with patch and tears ; 
Threadbare here and tattered there — 
Scanty shield for Christmas wear. 
How the thin lips close and part ; 
Tatters throb above the heart ! 
Listless rest the half-closed eyes, 



THE HARPER'S CHRISTMAS EVE, 67 

Turning now to where the skies 
Flooded lie in silver light, 
Turning now to where the night 
Hides in shadows deep and dark — 
Shadows deep and cold and dark — 
Dreaming in the silvery light — 
Dreaming in the Christmas night ; 
Fitful smiles along the face — 
Smiles that lights and shadows chase — 
What can be the Harper's dreams, 
Smiling in the silver beams ? 

He hath 'neath the palm-tree slept, 
He hath breathed where fragrance swept ; 
Wreathed about his harp with flowers, 
Laughed amidst the purple bowers ; 
Lo, he sees the cross afar — 
Southern cross — shine star by star ; 
Hears the whir of crimsoned bird, 
Trembling of the leaves hath heard ; 



68 THE HARPER'S CHRISTMAS EVE. 

Hears the echoes fall and rise- 
Music of his own fair skies. 

Hushed the murmuring of strings ; 
Stark and cold the hand that clings 
Fondly to them yet ; the face, 
Bowed upon its resting-place. 
Silent with the smile still there — 
Peace it seldom used to wear — 
Clustering locks that ever fell 
Round the strings he loved so well. 
Dreams are past ; the frozen heart 
Throbs no longer — who shall part 
The fingers clasped, the features sharp, 
The Harper from his silent harp. 



MY FAST. 

If I but put my sins aside 
And turn away ; am satisfied 
For Him alone 
To give the gift which closest shone 
Upon my heart, I best deny 
Myself, and Jesus glorify. 
If I look close to find the sin 
Which to my heart hath entered in — 

And though it be 
Bound close as close can be to me — 
Rend it quickly from its place, 
By help of Him who giveth grace, 
Oh, surely thus I best deny 
Myself, and Jesus glorify. 



70 MY FAST. 



If I give up my will and go 

But steps where He the way may show ; 
However hard ! 
If I my fondest wish discard 
Before the test of right, and try 
My every dream to purify, 
I best, within my little way 
Keep fast for Christ on holy day. 



A PRAYER. 

Sweet Spirit of peace, 'midst the voices which 

chime 
The music of life ; midst the rhythms of time 
Let me lose not thy voice ; 'midst the unrest 

of life, 
Midst the press, the pursuit, the yearning, the 

strife, 
Bend close, that I hear wherever I be, 
Thy sweet voice of peace ever whispering to me. 

Whatever the cross, or whatever the crown, 
If it lighten the heart, or boweth it down, 
May the calm of Thy voice be forever my own, 
Though heart beat to heart, or beateth alone. 
Serene may I stand wherever I be, 
Thy sweet voice of peace ever whispering tome. 



72 A PRAYER. 



Though discords of time their hard measures 

repeat, 
My idols lie trampled to dust at my feet ; 
Or if light glows my world as beauty's fair 

beam, 
Illuming the way as the light of a dream. 
Keep me close and serene wherever I be ; 
That thy sweet voice of peace ever whisper to 

me. 



COMPENSATION. 

He will all loss replace ; 
"With added grace, 
Lay in the empty hand some gift. 
No soul is left to drift 
Unblessed upon time's sea. 
The God who fills immensity 
Himself will give, 
And make it joy to live 
Though He may take 
All else away for love's own sake. 
He knows each need 
Each wavering step, each deed 
Of light or darkness, and can weigh 
Reasons, results, and lay 
Love's tribute where he would, without mistake. 



74 COMPENSATION, 

Though idols break 
And crumble into dust ; 
Though lips are mute in woe, we trust 
The Infinite, in love, to fill, 
The rifted heart, complete His perfect will. 



LOYALTY. 

If I know He leadeth me, 

Need I ask the path to see ; 

Need I tremble by the way 

Lest I stumble ? Day by day 

Shall I fear each step I take ; 

Shall I fear some storm may break ; 

Shall I fear Disaster's hand, 

Dread some plan which I have planned 

May be broken ere I see 

Fruit of full maturity ? 

Rather may I freely go 

Blindly on my way, and know 

Since His will alone is mine, 

Since I trust a hand divine, 

I am sure whate're may be, 

Cross or crown, in store for me, 

Not a step by faith I take 

Could be given by mistake. 



A PETITION. 

Keep me lowly, Christ, my King ; 

Putting self aside, 
May I simply ever be 
Thine in glad humility — 

Vanquished all my pride. 

Keep me humble, Christ, my Lord, 
Though the world goes wrong, 
May I see I need but try 
Keep myself in passing by 
All the restless throng. 

May I gently weigh the guilt 

Seen in human kind, 
Knowing were it not for Thee 



A PETITION. 77 



I more guilty far might be — 
Seek my faults to find. 

Keep me patient, Christ, my strength ; 

'Midst the frets of time 
May I simply quiet be, 
Knowing in humility, 

I've no strength but Thine. 



SACRIFICE. 

Shall I offer to my God 

Easy sacrifice ? 
Cover cautiously within 
Any cherished thought of sin, 

Dearest of device ? 

Shall I lay aside a crown 

Set with many a flame — 
Little sins, the world would say, 
Are enough to cast away 
Just in Jesus , name. 

Shall I offer to my God 

But a chosen part 
Of the world I find within ? 
Clasp some dearest, closest sin 

Nearer to my heart ? 



SACRIFICE. 79 



Rather let the soul redeemed 

Bid every idol fall, 
Rending quickly from its place 
Every sin, whate're its grace, 

Give itself — its all. 



THE GUIDING STAR OF CHRISTMAS 

TIDE. 

Night was deep. On Bethlehem's plain 
Travelled weary feet. In vain 
Wise men of the East had sought 
Messiah's infant face, and brought 
Gifts to cast before him. Now, 
Sadness weighed on every brow. 
They would homeward go, but first 
By the well-side slake their thirst. 
Lo, upon the waters deep, 
Radiant, in its dreamless sleep, 
They beheld a star of light — 
Nameless midst the hosts of night — 
Deep reflected. Overhead 
Deeper radiance was shed 
And behold, the star above — 
Guiding-star for human love — 
Moved to guide to love complete — 
The weary to Messiah's feet. 



REST. 

Rest ? It is simply trust in Him who knovv- 
eth best ; 
Leaving to-morrow in His hands, and all the 
rest 
Of time, without a shudder, or a dread 

Of anguish on ahead. 
It is the poising of a soul on Him 
Who, from the dim 
Far past, hath been the infinite, the stable 
one, 

Praying His will be clone ; 
Leaning on Him, in trust which knows no 
fear, 
As a child leans who does not hear 
The breath of the far storm ; to be 
At peace in His infinity. 



THE MOUNTAINS BRAISE HIM. 

The low hills magnify His name 
From verdant slopes, and hills aflame 
In gorgeous dyes, 
On altars of sweet sacrifice, 
Mid tangled paths where low flowers bloom 
and fade, 
And moss-wreaths hide amid the shade 
Of changeful forests, breathes one voice 
of praise 
To Him whose infinite, creative thought lifted 
the haze 

Of chaos to breathe life 
Across the dark abyss, and from the strife 
Of elements, bid hills to rise, 
Nature to spread her altar-fires of sacrifice. 

No footpath of the plain but hath its voice, nor 
yet 
The majesty of mountain-forms, a-fret 



THE MOUNTAINS PRAISE HIM. 83 

With jaspers, throned in strength, ribbed to 

defy 
The march of centuries. The mountain crags 

descry 
The far-off worlds, beyond the vapory vail ; 
Triumphant, rise beyond the trail 

Of man, and robed in cloud, 
Hold up their mighty arms in benediction 

vowed 

To earth beneath. 

Each fair, frail sheath 
Of flow r er-form drinks, to-day 
Of food once stored away 
In chalices of rock, hewn by the tempest's 

blast 
The clash of elements, the glaciers grinding 

past, 
The crash of mountain pinnacles that thunder- 
ing, fall 



84 THE MOUNTAINS PRAISE HIM. 

From gorge to gorge. Nature drinketh well 
From marble cisterns, rent and scarred 

By avalanche and storm — barred 
Close their stores which only Time gives out, 
As daily food fair Earth could not exist with- 
out. 

The hills, 
Radiant in rainbow rills, 
Breathed on by tenderest flowers, 
Throughout the hours 
Of all times' day, 
From forest depths, to slopes that fade 
away 
In lowlier plains; from sculptured granite's 
crest 

One anthem, unrepressed 
Through march of days, 
Breathes, through ministry of mountain forms, 
their Maker's praise. 



THE DEAREST OF THE SEVEN. 

The rumble of the mill is hushed, 
The moss-grown wheel at rest ; — 

Its mossy buckets, old and gray, 

Half-filled but idly drips to-day ; 

It is the Sabbath holiday — 
Of all the seven the best. 

The waters of the mill-race sleep ; 

Across, in mystic sheen, 
Reflected lies each silent hill, 
The white blooms bent their cups to fill, 
The banks a-light with daffodil, 

The fair, far cloud between. 

The harrow stands against the fence ; 
Across the furrow lies 



86 THE DEAREST OF THE SEVEN. 

The quiet plow and by the brook 
The team hath found a favorite nook — 
So still the scene one need but look 
To join in sacrifice. 

Across the air there comes no whir 

Of labor ; looms are stilled ; 
The far-off marts of toil give out 
No sound ; no tired ones turn about 
To wish the sunbeams faded out, 
Night's promised rest fulfilled. 

Oh, day of rest, what sweeter dream 
Could Love have ever given 

Than this of rest for laboring bands, 

Of quiet for the weary hands, 

Of peace — life's hard and broken strands 
Need one such day in seven 



LIKE HIM. 

To be like Him ; to keep 
Unspotted from the world ; to reap 
But where He leads ; to think, 
To dream, to hope as one who would but 
drink 

Of purity and grow 
More like the Christ ; to go 
Through time's sweet labyrinths, pure, and 
brave, and true ; 
To stand sin's tests ; to dare, to do 
For Him, though all the price 
Be stained in dye of sacrifice, 
This were to be 
Sustained by His infinity, 
And given 
A foretaste of the ecstacy of heaven. 



UNIFORM IN STYLE AND PRICE, IN FREDERICK A. STOKES 
COMPANY'S "INTERNATIONAL SERIES" OF POETS, WELL 
PRINTED AND DAINTILY BOUND, ARE : 

ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS, by A.W. 

Eaton. 
BETWEEN TIMES, by Walter Learned. 
CAP AND BELLS, by S. M. Peck. 
CHARLOTTE BRONTE^S POEMS. 
THE CHRISTIAN YEAR, by John Keble. 
CHARLES DICKENS' POEMS. 
LAUS DEO, by George Klingle. 
LONDON LYRICS, by Frederick Locker. 
LONDON RHYMES, by Frederick Locker. 
LYRA ELEGANTARIUM. Locker. 
MAKE THY WAY MINE, by George Klingle. 
MADRIGALS AND CATCHES, by F. D. Sherman. 
IN THE NAME OF THE KING,^ George Klingle. 
OLD AND NEW WORLD LYRICS, by Clinton 

Scollard. 
RELIGIOUS POEMS, by 3Ihs C E. Alexander. 
RINGS AND LOVE-KNOTS, by S. M. Peck. 
SONGS FROM BERANGER, by C. L. Belts. 
SONGS OF TOIL, by Carmen Sylva. 
POEMS OF SIR JOHN SUCKLING. 
SYLVAN LYRICS, by W. H. Hayne. 
THISTLE-DRIFT, by J. V. Cheney. 
WOOD BLOOMS, by J. V. Cheney. 



u 01d Madrid " binding', blue cloth, illuminated side, 

gilt top, %i.oo 

Orchid binding, gilt top, i.oo 

Half calf, gilt tops, 2.00 

Limp calf, led-under-gold edges, in a box, . 2.50 



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